


New Dog, Old Tricks

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: The Hatton Garden Job (2017)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Crimes & Criminals, First Time, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut, Older Man/Younger Man, Robbery, Sexual Content, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: The safecracker (otherwise known as the unnamed 'XXX') takes a break from boring through the thick concrete walls of the Hatton Garden vault to have a sandwich and chat with fellow gang member and veteran criminal, Brian Reader. One minute he's dreaming of those sunny beaches and Pina Coladas - the next, he's dreaming of Brian. How had he never noticed how handsome he was? Was there time for one final fling without the others noticing?
Relationships: XXX (The Hatton Garden Job)/Brian Reader (The Hatton Garden Job)





	New Dog, Old Tricks

The enormous boring machine whirred like a spinning top, ever twirling, grinding against the vault wall - it had become the soundtrack to their lives, a noise that was constant for the whole of the night, and a vibrating hum which had throbbed through the basement floor for so many hours now that their feet were turning numb. But they were close; the safecracker could taste it, and it wasn't just the brick dust catching in the back of his throat. No - what he could taste were the fruity cocktails, on a sunny beach somewhere - the Pina Coladas and Harvey Wallbangers - and that grainy texture currently sitting on his tongue was merely the sand he dreamed of.

Some people only wanted wealth, where the safecracker simply wanted freedom, after years of being detained at her Majesty's pleasure. Some might say that the two go hand-in-hand - that you can not be truly free without some decent amount of money to fund your lifestyle - and, to some extent, that was true, and that's why he was here. He wasn't sure what the other boys wanted out of this heist, but he had decided long ago - when the Hatton Garden job was initially proposed, while he was still in prison - that he'd be on the next plane out of here, and spending the rest of his days in sunnier climes. But - without a shadow of a doubt - he'd miss these old lads.

"What you thinking about?" Brian asked him, the grin on his face showing that he was pretty sure he knew the answer. "Those birds in their bikinis, around the pool?" he guffawed.

"Not necessarily," there was a quiet reply, and the safecracker was glad that the pair of them were around the corner from the action, where they couldn't be heard; the pair had just finished their sandwiches, and nobody wanted cement powder for a filling, so they decided to stay well out of the way. "There are things I prefer," his nose wrinkled as he took a sip of his tea from his flask.

"Counting your all of your dosh in the room instead?" Brian laughed. There wasn't much else on their minds at the moment, what with the third hole in the wall nearly complete and unfathomable riches almost in their grasp. But, actually, the other man had been struck by _another_ thought; it might have been the grit in his eyes, but he couldn't help but notice how handsome the elderly thief was for his age - and particularly when he smiled - which was often, when scheming or setting up a plan. He ran a tongue over his lips, and Reader gasped with realisation, " _Oh_. Or the boys in their speedos, of course. It doesn't matter which." And the safecracker snorted. "We can all have what we want."

"I suppose I should say this now, as we won't be seeing much more of one another - but, _thanks_ ," the younger of the two smiled, wrapping a hand around Brian's upper arm, "For everything."

The safecracker had attempted similar jobs in the past, with mixed success, but one thing he had learned - from unreliable youths not turning up for their posts, to the blabbermouthed, flashy, sports-car-driving Judas who had turned him in the last time and landed him in jail - he had placed his faith wisely in these veteran blaggers. He knew from the outset that this was an old-school job, and he needed old-schoolers to see it through. With the Hungarian gangsters masterminding the raid watching his every move, he didn't dare put a foot wrong this time. But, in choosing this crew, he ended up gaining a great deal of knowledge and more. "I've learnt a lot from you guys," he said, sincerely.

"Well, don't be a stranger. I might even come down to Acapulco to join you," Brian giggled, raising an imaginary glass. His attention was drawn to the grip on his bicep; a thumb traced the muscle there - the safecracker was particularly impressed with Reader's surprisingly buff physique, both of their toned upper halves on show in the tight black t-shirts they had chosen as their uniform - and the seasoned professional's laughter turned into a wry chuckle.

Did this _kid_ genuinely think that he could bloody shock him? At his age, he'd seen the whole damned lot, and had his fair share of experiences. "I'll have to teach you one more thing before you go," he whispered, leading him further away from the busy activity. Luckily, Danny was highly occupied, currently manning the equipment, and - as if the drilling wasn't loud enough already - the chirpy Cockney was shouting the odds, bellowing over the top it, forcing Terry to turn down his hearing aid and attempt to block out the godawful racket.

"Teach a _new_ dog _old_ tricks?" came the cheeky enquiry.

"Something like that," Brian twisted his face into a smirk, dropping the wrench onto the floor, and watching his friend physically jump as the item clanged against the stone. He took advantage of his distracted state to make his move, pulling the dust mask from his face and allowing his lips to collide with the safecracker's--

"--Steady," strangely, there was a protest, "You collapsed yesterday morning - I don't want to give you a heart attack."

"I'm _fine_ ," Brian soothed, elongating the vowel.

"You certainly are," the ex-con uttered, hands hungrily roaming Reader's chest, enjoying the feel of him - delighting in _having_ him. And the silver-haired fox's dark eyes remained trained on his throughout the exchange. It occured to him that - were the police to arrive any minute (even if it was Easter weekend, and the filth were more likely to be indulging in lamb dinners, hot cross buns or _chocolate eggs_ ) - it could be the last time, for a very long time, that he might feel the tender loving touch of another human being. There wasn't a moment to waste, he realised. "Now, what did you want to teach me?"

No sooner than he'd asked the question, Brian was on his knees, snatching the end of the safecracker's belt and quickly threading it through the loop. "I'm going to teach you how to do it properly," he tugged at the leather, "Like someone who knows what they're doing."

"Take your teeth out, granddad," the criminal teased, pushing fingers through his partner's short, grey hair and bringing his head closer to his bulging fly, "I hear it makes for a better blowjob."

"I should _slap_ you for that," Brian snapped, jokingly, tearing at the pair of cotton boxer shorts which barred entry to his prize, eventually discovering a way into the frustrating underwear - the resulting actions sending he who was on the receiving end right up to heaven - even if they were several storeys below the ground.

He may not have gone on to slap him or do anything of the sort, but - besides for the obvious reasons - this night would truly leave its everlasting mark on the unnamed safecracker. He, wistfully, thought of the occasion often - as he relaxed on his lounger - under those sun-saturated Mediterranean, or would that be South American skies. The fifth man may have been the one to get away, but Brian had been the one, he regretted to say, that had gotten away from _him_. And he often raised a drink to him, and the rest of the gang, forever sad that they were less fortunate than himself - and that his one-time lover was now sleeping alone, with little by the way of company, in a cold and tiny cell.


End file.
